Going Under
by skag trendy
Summary: Sam’s drowning and Dean hasn’t noticed. Set almost immediately after IMTOD; because I just can’t resist the angst…


**Going Under**

_**AU Set almost immediately after IMTOD; because I just can't resist the angst… **_

_**Sam's drowning and Dean hasn't noticed.**_

It wasn't long until sun up and a light breeze crossed the yard, carrying with it the lingering chill of the night. The birds weren't singing and the bats hadn't yet gone to bed.

"Dean!"

Dean turned with a smartass expression on his face that Bobby Singer would have just _loved_ to punch right off. And if Dean hadn't long been out of hospital, he might have seriously considered it.

"What?" Dean snapped back. "If this is about Sam again, I gotta tell ya; I'm getting' pretty bored a hearin' it!" Dean glared at Bobby, who was giving him _that _look again. The look that was caught on the edge of psychoanalysis and outright frustration.

"_Yeah_ it's about Sam." Bobby strode up and put his face right in Dean's. "He's getting' sick, did you know that?" He didn't wait for Dean to answer, just poked him in the chest with his index finger. "Do you even care about your little brother?"

"That's a hell of a thing to ask!" Dean yelled, more than a little hurt. "Of course I care…"

"Oh really?" Bobby threw back bitterly, not in the least bit perturbed by the angry Winchester. He lowered his voice, mockingly. "Did you know he hasn't been sleepin'? Did ya know he has panic attacks on a regular basis? He damn near passes out every 

time! Yeah, he can't breathe at just the _thought_ of losin' you! But I can see it in his eyes Dean. He thinks he already has!"

What he said next shocked the hell out of Dean even further.

"He's turned to drink."

Dean smirked, almost amused. "What? Sam doesn't' drink! Least ways not like that! Kid can barely hold a couple beers without fallin' on his ass!"

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Things have changed."

Dean stared at him. "You're serious!"

"You mean to tell me you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"The hangovers? That he smells like a fucking distillery every mornin'?...Oh that's right. You wouldn't have 'cos you avoid 'im like the god damn plague!" Bobby regarded Dean with his head tilted to one side. "You know he doesn't even sleep in the house anymore?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Since _when_?" He folded his arms, a clear sign he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"Since you boys salted and burned ya daddy. Since _you_ stopped talking. Poor kid's startin' to wonder if he's invisible."

"Ok." Dean nodded his head slightly, still not quite sure. "Where's he sleepin'?"

Bobby, still staring at Dean, pointed out across the yard, and far beyond the woodland at the back. "Out there. In the dark, on his own, 'less you count the bottle of whiskey he curls up with."

Dean shook his head. "How dya know this?"

Bobby went silent for a moment. "The first night you boys were here, he stayed in the house. But when you started shutting him out, he shut me out too. After that, he'd go out to the nearest bar and come back drunk. Sometimes he'd come back with a little friend o' his; you might know his name? Jack Daniels. He'd hide it; thought I didn't notice. But then he stopped goin' out and he wasn't eating much at the dinner table; after a few nights he stopped turnin' up to meals at all, just sat in the study starin' at the Devil's Trap on the ceilin'."

Dean stared at him. It was bad enough he hadn't noticed his little brother wasn't eating properly, but to not even acknowledge he wasn't there _at all…_

"Oh Christ." Dean muttered when he looked back over the last few weeks and realised Bobby was telling the truth.

Knowing he finally had Dean's attention, Bobby decided to push the point home. "He'd wait 'til he thought we were both asleep, then he'd creep down to the study and get blind drunk. But after I caught him and balled him out for drinking alone, he started waiting 'til a little later, then left the house altogether, sneaky bastard. Was gonna ball 'im out again, but I didn't wanna drive him away…"

"And that's what you been tryin' a tell me. Right?" asked Dean in a shaky voice.

"Yeah."

They both stood silent in the early morning light.

"He out there now?" Dean jerked his chin in the direction of the wooded area at the back of the property.

"Yep."

"Right!" Dean strode away angrily.

"Dean…wait!" Bobby called out, somewhat alarmed by the look in the kid's eyes, but Dean was already out the yard, away into the trees, screaming out his brother's name in rage.

"SAM? SAM! You'd better answer me right now!" God damn _stupid_ kid. Dean glanced round frantically. _Where the hell is he?_ "SAM! If I have to come lookin' for ya I promise you'll regret it!!"

Dean's knuckles itched to punch something, possibly his little brother if he didn't show up soon. He stumbled on through the trees, glad to note that the sun was just about to put in an appearance. He was _so_ gonna kill Sam for this. Sneaking out the house at night to go get drunk alone in the middle of nowhere, where _anything_ could've happened, _anything_ could've taken Sam…._did he not know how much danger he might've been in?_ Dean suddenly felt sick and leaned over, resting his hands on his knees until the nausea passed.

No, he was definitely kicking Sam's ass for this, for making him worry.

Except….Dean stopped and stared at the ground, breathing hard. Just how much more self-righteous was he gonna get? How much of a hypocrite was he being?

_He didn't show up at meal times and I didn't even notice!_

A shaft of guilt a mile wide suddenly hit him and he started running.

"Sammy? Come on buddy talk to me!" _Jesus, the kid always __**was**__ good at hide and seek._

Dean burst out into a clearing in the trees, and right on the other side, curled into a ball, was his little brother. "Thank God! Sam, you must be frozen kiddo…" But as he drew nearer he realised that Sam wasn't in the least bit conscious.

He was shivering from the cold, and vomit soaked the ground by his mouth. Two empty bottles of Jack lay nearby.

_Two?_

"Oh shit! BOBBY!" Dean rapidly removed his jacket and lifted Sam up, wrapping the material round him. Holding him tightly in his arms, Dean began to despair when Sam remained unresponsive.

_Shitshitshit! He can barely manage half a bottle, but two?_

"I'm so sorry kiddo. I just didn't see it comin'." Dean used his shirtsleeve to wipe at Sam's mouth. "Come on Sam, wake up for me? Please?" But the only noise that came from Sam were the early signs of respiratory distress, as his body struggled to deal with the vast amount of alcohol he'd ingested. "It's gonna be ok. I promise I'll try harder for you Sammy. I promise!"

Bobby appeared through the trees and gasped when he saw the state Sam was in. Then he spotted the empty bottles.

"Alcohol poisoning?" At Dean's nod, Bobby pulled out his cell phone.

Dean rocked his brother lightly and buried his face in Sam's hair right by his ear. "Please kiddo, don't give up…."

"Ambulance is on its way. Look Dean, I think he'll be ok 'cos he puked up a lot of it 'fore it could do any damage."

Dean appreciated Bobby's attempt to reassure him, but Sam hadn't opened his eyes, and he hadn't moved, and Dean thought he was losing his sanity….

And Dad's _dead_.

Sam was dying inside just as much as Dean, but the difference was Sam hadn't turned his back on him. Dean knew without a shadow of a doubt that if his baby brother didn't pull through, it would be _his_ fault. Because Sam was drowning in fear and loneliness, and Dean hadn't even noticed.

A horrendous noise came from the back of Sam's throat, and Dean winced. Knowing what was coming he rolled his brother over, a supporting hand under Sam's chest holding him up so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. Dean felt a momentary shudder at the thought. _Sam could've been dead by now._

"That's it Sammy, get as much of that stuff outta ya system as ya can." Dean stroked the back of Sam's head as he continued holding him up over the ground. "You'll be fine kiddo. Help'll be here soon and we'll fix you up, and we're gonna talk. Ya know? Just like you wanted." _Like you needed._

Bobby watched sadly as tears rolled down the older brother's face, wishing like hell it hadn't come to this. He'd known things were bad and he'd tried to keep an eye on the younger kid whilst Dean was mentally AWOL, but whenever Sam sneaked out he never went to the same 

place twice. Clearly Sam had moved around a bit during _last_ night, because Bobby had checked this clearing a few times before finally heading back to the yard to find Dean. He'd thought Sam was well and truly missing.

Which was why he'd turned to Dean, eventually forcing him to listen.

It had _never _crossed his mind that Sam would take it this far or just how badly Sam needed to escape. Bobby had just assumed that things would settle down eventually, the boys would talk, and they'd get back on an even keel.

But it had all proved too much for the youngest boy. Losing his girlfriend, his father and nearly losing his brother, all in the same year?

Yeah, Bobby felt responsible alright. He'd overlooked things way too much and knew he should've kicked Dean's ass weeks ago, long before Sam went over the edge.

A wail of sirens caught their attention and pretty soon paramedics were running through the trees calling out.

"Over here!" Bobby got to his feet and waved.

"Ya hear that Sam?" Dean tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. "Help's here. Everything's gonna be fine little bro."

Reluctant to lose contact with his brother Dean helped the EMTs load Sam on the stretcher, rolling him onto his side, and held the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

"Bobby…"

"It's ok, I'll be right behind you, just stay with your brother."

Dean nodded as they left the clearing, heading back to the yard and waiting ambulance.

They didn't ask or even question him, they just let Dean ride along with his brother, glancing discreetly at them both whenever they heard Dean muttering to their silent patient.

Dean didn't take his eyes off his brother, not once, and just stroked his too long hair, wondering why he hadn't noticed when Sam had got so thin and fragile. In fact, he looked nothing like the fiery, determined kid that argued, fought and downright irritated his big brother to distraction.

Dean wondered if he'd ever get that person back.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

He sat through the stomach pump, the IV of fluids and vitamins, the provision of breathing support as Sam continued to struggle, and sat back waiting for Sam's body to eliminate the alcohol. The doctor had told him that a night of binge drinking had resulted in toxic levels of alcohol in his blood, slowing his heart rate, breathing and gag reflex, but the earlier vomiting had indeed taken some of the load off. Hypothermia had been an issue; the combination of bourbon and lying out in the cold night air had led to a lowering of his body temperature, and Sam was lucky to have escaped any further dire consequences.

Dean knew the minute Sam was awake because his breathing changed. It came from most of a life time spent sleeping in the same room with the guy, though Dean let out a self-deprecating laugh at that. The last few weeks had rather been the exception.

"Sam. I know you're awake, so cut the bull." Dean waited but there was no response. His brother was lying on his side, facing the wall. "Dude, you've never run from anything in your life. So why start now?"

Sam's throat might have been sore from intubation but Dean seriously doubted that was the reason for the silent treatment. Sam now sported a nasal cannula for his oxygen supply and a small twitch on the plastic tubing told Dean he'd been heard loud and clear.

"Come on Sam. It's long past due, we both know that. And I'm sorry, man." Dean leaned over and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Talk to me Sammy; I'm here now and I aint goin' no place. Not without you."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam blinked, unsure of what had happened or where he was. From the smell of antiseptic wafting through the air conditioning units, he guessed he was in hospital. His eyes filled with tears when he heard his brother's voice, firmly believing he was just hallucinating. But when a strong, gentle hand gripped his shoulder the tears fell silently, dampening the soft material of his pillow.

"Sammy?"

Sam felt over-whelmed with anger and frustration, but the worst was the sense of fear. Fear that his brother really was there and just putting on a show. Dean hadn't wanted to talk, especially not now, and Sam wasn't going to be the one make him. Not anymore.

He sighed. "Just go Dean." He whispered. "You don't need me, so just…go."

"Who says?" Sam turned over at the angry tone in his brother's voice.

"Well? You got all the answers, right Sam?" Dean glared at him. "That's why you got yaself so damn drunk you nearly died, _right_?"

Sam just stared at him sadly. He didn't have anything to say, so why bother? His brother was angry; no change there then. Sam dropped his gaze and turned back to the wall. The fact was he just didn't trust anything or anyone right now, and he certainly didn't trust Dean to let him in from the cold. Sam had spent too long in exile to believe it could happen now.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to calm his temper. Once he got himself back under control he got up and moved round the bed, and before Sam could move away again he perched on the edge of the mattress. Holding one hand to Sam's back to stop him rolling over, and the other over Sam's heart just to _feel_ the life in him, Dean stared at him apologetically.

"Just tell me something." He bit his lip before continuing. "Were you _trying_ to kill yourself? Or was it a cry for help?"

Sam looked surprised. "Neither."

Dean couldn't hide his relief. "Then what Sam? What were ya tryin' to prove?"

Sam's surprise turned to agitation and distress, as his voice rose with every word he spoke. "Prove? I wasn't tryin' to prove anything! I already know what a damn failure I am in this family. Dad took every opportunity to let me know it, even when you were in a coma he blamed me, told me that if I had killed the demon then it wouldn't have happened." His voice lowered with sadness at this point. "And you….you don't have to say anythin' man. You 

hardly spoke to me these last few weeks since Dad died, and the look of disgust on your face every damn time you see me says it all." Almost choking on the last couple of words, Sam turned his head away, pure misery and shame etched on his face. "I just wanted to stop…_feelin. _Just for a little while_."_ he finished on a sad whisper.

Dean couldn't have been more shocked if Bobby had walked in at that moment wearing a tutu.

"Phew!" Dean ran a hand through his hair, then slumped a little. "Wasn't expecting that." His own eyes grew suspiciously moist and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

Sam remained silent after that; just lay there staring at nothing and Dean could hear him breathing through his nose, sucking on the oxygen fed via the tube. It sounded more and more agitated and painful as the seconds ticked by, and when Dean lifted his gaze to Sam he shot forward and grabbed his upper arms.

"Sam? Just calm down and breathe slow ok?" Dean's eyes ran over his little brother's increasingly pale face. "Sammy come on!"

"C…can't d…do this…anymore…" Sam rasped out as he sagged in Dean's grip and the cardiac monitor started blaring out.

"Sam!" yelled Dean fearfully as Sam began to pass out. The door to the room slammed open and two nurses appeared, with Bobby Singer trying to see over the top of their heads.

"What's wrong with him? I thought the alcohol was out of his system by now!"

One of the nurses examining Sam spoke up "It's ok. He's just having an anxiety attack. It'll soon pass."

Dean caught Bobby's eye and remembered what he'd told him about Sam's panic attacks. He nodded with relief and settled back to wait for his brother to come round again, only this time he used the reprieve wisely and thought long and hard about what his brother had told him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It wasn't pretty, not to mention mostly true. Except the part about him being disgusted with his little brother, thinking him a failure; that was pure bullshit, though Dean could see how Sam had come to that conclusion. But the revelation about what his father had said to Sam while Dean was in a coma….Dean shook his head as a wave of resentment towards his Dad rolled over him.

Wanting to reassure his brother in his deep slumber but also wanting reassure _himself _that the last member of his family was still alive, Dean lifted Sam up slightly, slid in behind him and spent the rest of the night holding him.

"Just give me time Sam. I'm not sayin' it'll be perfect but it _will_ be ok." Dean rested his chin lightly on Sam's head. "Please just trust me again and I won't let you down, I swear it." He leaned back against the headboard taking Sam with him.

When Bobby looked in on them a few minutes later he smiled, reached over, drew the blankets up over the sleeping brothers, then left them in peace.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam woke up feeling groggy and glanced at the wall clock. Four am.

"What the…?" He was more than startled to find himself tightly wrapped in someone's arms and twisted his head to find a pair sleepy green eyes staring worriedly down at him.

"Go back to sleep Sammy." Dean whispered, then gently manoeuvred Sam's head back against his chest, his hand lingering on the side of Sam's face.

Sam just lay there for a moment feeling confused, and even wondered if he should be frightened. After all, the last time he'd woken up like this he'd been about five years old, a time when his big brother Dean hadn't been afraid to offer such comfort to a terrified little boy suffering from nightmares.

And maybe that was what Dean was doing now, nearly eighteen years on. Sam allowed himself to feel a small tendril of hope. If Dean was still prepared to go all the way back to basics for the sake of his kid brother, maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe things would get better.

Eventually.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Yes. I'm sure there are those among you out there who are thinking "Ah Christ not another post IMTOD fic."

Yes it fucking is!

So shuddup moaning! ;-)

I know this one's quite a bit out of character for our boys, especially Sam. On the show he's portrayed as much stronger than this; but it was his comments in early Season 1 about his father's drinking, and how most people's fics refer to Sam being so much like his father that got me wondering. Just _how_ much like his father could he become? Mix that up with him being young, and with today's so called binge drinking culture…

I was also in the mood to write some brotherly love and affection. So I decided to mess around and experiment, and we all know what _that_ leads to (apart from unprotected sex – just kidding!) - another one of my crazy fics that would probably frustrate the living hell out of everyone that's ever worked on the show, past and present.

And I only have one thing to say to that:

Tough shit mate!

Hope you enjoyed it, and, in spite of the above statement, would love to hear what you think.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


End file.
